The End of the Affair
by Cath1
Summary: “Jethro, this needs to stop.” JIBBS.


Title: The End of the Affair

Author: Cath

Feedback: Is always greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Surprisingly, the characters still do not belong to me.

Summary: "Jethro, this needs to stop." JIBBS.

Notes: My first attempt at a Jenny/Gibbs pairing.

---

You don't know how this thing started.

No, that's a lie; you know exactly how it started.

It started when you invited him back to yours. It started when you came to work in DC. It started in Paris. It started when you first met.

You're just not sure why you allowed it to happen again.

You put it down to a moment of weakness. But then, that doesn't explain the second, or third, or any of the subsequent multiple occurrences.

Initially, you explained to yourself that it was due to loneliness; nostalgia. The culmination of the prospect of another fucking Friday evening alone and a long, wretched day of loss; a sense of helplessness and a feeling of vulnerability that you haven't experienced in years.

And you don't know why, but you were drawn to him. In the dark of the near deserted office you went to talk to him because you didn't want to be alone. And you thought you saw something cross his features; a fleeting look of defeat, sadness that mirrored your own.

Maybe you were deluded. But that didn't stop you offering dinner back at yours. Then a nightcap. And then more. And it didn't stop him from accepting; eyes dark with anticipation.

You still remember the feeling of his naked body surrounding yours for the first time in years and a sense of completion. And you knew even in that moment, as your body craved his in ways that you had forgotten, that this was more than a one time only desperate need for companionship.

But you know it can't last. You're starting to feel too much and it makes you distracted. The slight brush of his hand against yours as you take a file from him leads you to thoughts of his hand against yours in other situations; memories of your eyes closed in ecstasy as one hand drifts slowly up your arm and down your torso, the other dragging through your hair, hungry kisses consuming you.

Your career is far too important to allow such distractions. And you and Jethro; history tells you that it can't last. And if you get too involved before severing this connection; you know exactly how that feels and you don't think you have the energy to survive it again.

It's with this thought in mind that you make a decision.

"Jethro," you say, "this needs to stop."

And suddenly you're back in history.

---

Before things fell apart – no – before you left, you were going to warn him.

You stand together one Sunday morning, looking out across a river somewhere that you can't remember now. His arms around your waist, your head rests against his chest. And you feel so… happy.

And the knowledge that this happiness has to come to an end starts to weigh on your conscience. It's tearing at you, little by little, as you realise that you can't stay here forever. Your career is developing and pulls you in a different direction. And if you choose your career, your partnership and everything that is associated with you and Jethro will certainly come to an end.

You're ambitious. You both knew this from the start. And you both also know that you will never be happy if you settle.

But in this moment, you also know that you have too much of a connection for this to end well. And you can't bear the thought of living through the heartache when he is present because you know that you won't remain strong enough not to give in to your desires.

But your head is telling you something different. It believes that leaving now will be less difficult than leaving later. It tells you that this needs to stop.

And you ignore it.

---

"Jethro," you say in the present, "this needs to stop." But your comment lacks the conviction that was originally intended and he draws you close and laughs into your neck; you feel the vibration of it against your skin and you close your eyes.

"Jethro," you murmur. But suddenly his skilful hands are working on your body in ways that cause you to lose concentration and the ability to speak is reduced to guttural moans of pleasure.

Later, as you lie together in your bed, sated and – happy – your brain remembers the conversation you tried to have.

"Jethro," you start.

"Jen," he mutters, half awake, semi-consciously linking his hands through yours.

"This can't last, can it?" you half ask.

"Maybe," he replies noncommittally.

"It's just… good things… they don't last. And our careers; our lives… Our history…" you trail off. You hear nothing from him. "Jethro?" you ask, not sure if he's fallen asleep.

He draws you closer in response and for a while you feel nothing other than his warm body against yours. And you don't remember feeling this content in life in a long, long time.

And as you fall asleep you think that maybe you could stay like this forever; maybe you don't have to listen to your brain just yet.

Tomorrow, you decide, maybe tomorrow.

Because you already know that leaving him is going to be hell.

---

fini


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